


lullaby

by ishka



Category: Free!
Genre: Heavy Angst, Insomnia, M/M, Not Happy, Smut, a little fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-24
Updated: 2016-03-24
Packaged: 2018-05-28 21:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6345124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ishka/pseuds/ishka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sousuke hasn’t been sleeping well. It happens to everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lullaby

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE  
> HEED  
> THE  
> TAGS
> 
> i'm serious, my dudes. proceed with **caution.** i'm gonna be bitchy about this if you come at me for something you didn't mind and were thoroughly warned about. i like how it turned out so i'm sharing it but man i do not want to regret that choice due to negligence.

Sousuke hasn’t been sleeping well. It happens to everyone.

He’s sure he’s given it his god-honest best attempt tonight and nothing will come of it, so he gets out of bed and takes a few minutes to fix it. Fluffs the pillows, yanks the elastic sheet down where it’s ridden up on the mattress, smooths the comforter top to bottom and folds in the corners for diamonds.

It’s 3:15 in the morning, he makes himself breakfast. He tries to be as quiet as he can be even though the egg sizzles and pops on the pan. The failure of his goal is made apparent when arms encircle his waist from behind and something sharp digs into the junction of his neck and shoulder.

“Anyone ever tell you you got a fuckin’ weapon for a chin?”

“Only every day,” Kisumi mumbles. “Do you hate it?”

“I don’t.”

Kisumi hums, and kisses lazily up the column of Sousuke’s neck while his palms slide over and down his stomach, fingertips pushing under the waistband of his sweatpants so that he can gently stroke the soft skin between his hipbones. “Can’t sleep?” Kisumi’s lips flutter behind his ear and he kisses his way back down.

“Not really,” Sousuke answers. He nearly forgets to kill the heat under Kisumi’s ministrations, resulting in an egg too browned at the edges. “Hungry?”

Kisumi shakes his head in denial while nuzzling his nose to the back of Sousuke’s head. “You’re so gorgeous.”

“...Sap.”

“I mean it,” he purrs sleepily. He doesn’t press hard against him, or dip his hands any lower, only draws circles and lines on his skin and buries his face here and there in Sousuke’s hair and between his shoulder blades, peppering kisses as he moves about. “Fluorescent lighting, eyebags, frying an egg with a slouch… I’d still fuck you right now if you asked me to.”

Sousuke shivers in the wake of Kisumi’s growl reverberating down his spine. “You should go back to bed,” he says, plating his egg.

Kisumi tilts Sousuke’s head to the side with an arm he’s snaked up his torso and kisses him as deep and sensuous as he can from the angle. Sousuke breaks under all of this attention and moans just loud enough to be heard. “I’ll take my meals with you when I can get them.”

Sousuke wobbles for a spell on his feet when Kisumi drags off of him, leaving his back cold and his exhausted body without support. The table isn’t but a few steps away and it feels like it takes him an eternity to finally get to it and sit at it with his food.

“I’m worried about you,” Kisumi calls somewhere over his shoulder before pulling a chair out to sit next to Sousuke. Sousuke doesn’t look at him, only sees him pout on his periphery.

“I’m all right.”

“You could dream of me instead if you slept.”

Sousuke shrugs. “Got you right here.”

“Good answer,” Kisumi laughs lightly.

Sousuke shakes his head so Kisumi doesn’t tease him for smiling and looks down at his sad breakfast, only to see an empty plate. He sighs. “You said you weren’t hungry.”

“Food like that will only give you energy, you know.”

He rubs the heels of his hands into his eyes and pulls at his face. He’s so fucking tired he can’t even be annoyed. “Well are you full now? So if I make more you won’t swipe it again?”

Kisumi’s hand is downright icy at his wrist when he pulls Sousuke’s arm away from his face and lays his forearm flat on the table, palm up. Sousuke looks over just as Kisumi bends forward to brush his lips to the center of his hand, the tips of his hair delicately tickling where it reaches along his arm. “Or,” Kisumi says, “you can go to _sleep_ , Sou.”

Kisumi’s placed a pill where his lips were, small and white and unassuming. “... You know I don’t like these.”

“We only keep them for when this happens, right? It’ll help.”

“It’ll knock me on my face, Kisumi.”

“Better than the alternative, hmm?”

He stares at it, watches it distort along ripples and waves as his eyes strain to focus on it.

“For me?” Kisumi stresses.

 _Always_ , Sousuke thinks he says, but maybe he doesn’t.

* * *

 

It only takes Sousuke ten minutes to clean the apartment, and he can’t remember the last time that happened. Kisumi laughs from his repose on top of the bed. “See, maybe I can be taught.”

“Unheard of,” Sousuke snorts. “You put all your shit away.”

Kisumi twirls his foot to some beat only he hears, looking too pleased with himself. “I’m just perfect now, aren’t I?”

“You wish.”

“Take me out to the beach,” he sighs. “Let’s get some sun.”

Sousuke sits on the edge of the bed and twists to look at him. “You’ll _ignite_. You always do, pasty.”

“But _you-”_ Kisumi prods him in the back with his foot. “-will _tan_ , and look _incredible_. Totally worth it.”

He glances at the clockradio on their nightstand, thinking Kisumi must mean tomorrow since last he checked it was after 8 PM. “It’s late. Two in the morning.”

“In the _afternoon_ , you hermit,” Kisumi laughs. “See the window? Well, open the curtains anyway and you could tell.”

Sousuke scowls at nothing in front of him, and stands to look for himself. Kisumi’s tricked him this way more than once, and he’s clearly especially vulnerable to what feels like time warps when his sleep isn’t regular. He splits the curtain at the center and squints into the blinding sun.

“We could get… hmm,” Kisumi muses, standing at his side. “Shaved ice?”

“If that’s what you want.” Sousuke lets the curtain fall before the twinge behind his eyes explodes into a full-blown migraine. He should stave that off for as long as possible so Kisumi can have a nice time out.

Kisumi beams at him and pulls him in by the nape of his neck to smile to his lips. “Look at me, getting everything I want. I should put my things away more often.”

Sousuke rolls his eyes and pats Kisumi on the hip to gently push him off. “I won’t get my hopes up.”

They walk; Kisumi insists Sousuke could use that too. Sousuke doesn’t have the heart to tell him that it hurts to do so, and labors through it. It’s not enough sleep, whatever he’s getting. It’s been difficult to track how much on his own, and Kisumi’s in and out. At work, Sousuke has to only assume, since the only time that seems to line up with reality and what time he thinks it is is three in the morning.

It does take seven minutes for Sousuke to finally give into the grimace the throbbing behind his eyes has been trying to beat onto his face, because he wore a wristwatch to time it. Kisumi frowns at him as they approach the treat vendor’s cart.

“I’m fine,” Sousuke intercepts on a mumble. He turns to the woman working the cart and digs his wallet out of the beach bag on his arm. “One lime.”

She nods and he thumbs out a few yen coins from the zipper pouch, setting them down as she hands him his ice. As he walks away and down towards the beach, Kisumi shuffles after him. “None for you?”

“ _Half_ for me,” Sousuke corrects, and takes bite out of the side.

Kisumi strangles some sort of dying noise in his throat. “That gives me the _shivers_ why would you just bite into ice that way?!”

Sousuke smiles, headache momentarily abated while his brain processes the shock of cold and tangy citrus. “Makes you squirm.” He takes one more small bite and reaches to his side to let Kisumi take the treat from him as he keeps walking.

“Ah _shit_!” Kisumi curses after a few steps. Sousuke turns quickly only to see Kisumi’s dropped his ice, a neon-green splatter quickly melting into the wood.

“Clumsy,” Sousuke sighs, stooping to at least get the paper cup back to toss away. “I’ll get you another one if you have any coins. Used my last ones.” He crumples it and takes a few steps to a garbage can, then wipes the syrup that got onto him carelessly along his swim trunks.

“Ugh I didn’t bring my wallet. It’s okay,” Kisumi whines, indicating it is very much _not_ okay. “Break a bill on the way back? We’re too close to the sand now for me to ignore.”

With that he skips a few steps ahead and walks quickly down the pier. Sousuke takes a break from his boyfriend’s scrutiny to release a long breath that hitches along the way every time his pulse beats that _throb_ in his head. He’ll need to take another one of those sleeping pills tonight; there’ll be no rest with a headache like _this_.

Kisumi’s already chosen a spot for them to set up, waving him over enthusiastically to lay down their two beach towels from the bag he brought. Sousuke kicks the bag towards Kisumi as he pulls his shirt over his head. Kisumi keeps his on; he really does burn too easily.

“Sunblock.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Sousuke sprawls on his towel and closes his eyes, then lays his arm across his face for good measure. His bones are like putty, soaking in the heat from above and below, but the light is nearly unbearable. He hears Kisumi sigh contentedly next to him, which makes it worse to know he’ll have to cut this short, and it kills him to disappoint Kisumi with that. For how high maintenance he is, Kisumi really doesn’t ask for much, and when he does Sousuke wants to deliver.

“One hour okay with you?” Sousuke asks weaker than he means to. “I’m not feeling at my best.”

Kisumi responds at first by rolling onto his side and pushing his fingers through Sousuke’s hair, light enough to be relieving and not cause friction. “Of course. We can leave right now, even.”

“Hell no. You dragged me out so we have to stay at least a little bit.”

Who knows how long he’s there, as he’s long since forgotten he wore a watch today, and he only comes back to consciousness with Kisumi hovering over him and calling his name increasingly frantic and desperate. Kisumi cries out with relief when he opens his eyes and collapses over him in worried murmurs, and Sousuke’s seized with ten tons of guilt to see him so distraught. Did he pass out or drift off? All he knows is Kisumi couldn't get him to wake back up.

It riles them both up, but it scares only Kisumi. He doesn’t want shaved ice on the way back home. The only good thing to come of it is Kisumi doesn’t burn.

* * *

 

It’s seven in the evening, Kisumi declares. He does that now. Spits the time off at random intervals.

There’s a knock at the door that Sousuke pointedly ignores in favor of watching Kisumi drag his lips down his abdomen while he slides his fingers in and out of him _perfectly_. Kisumi looks up at him through his lashes and hair and all of the obstruction in the world can’t contain that violet.

Sousuke throws his head back over the arm of the couch while he pushes his hips down, urging Kisumi for _more_ and earning a hot, wet mouth over his cock that has him groaning low from his throat. He grasps at the cushions, feeling like he could be kicked from the furniture at any moment, and his consciousness is a small boat rocking on a stormy sea; lurching, free falling, crashing violently into the waves.

Kisumi pulls off after a few bobs and kisses up the length of him as he speaks; “Open up for me, Sousuke.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” Sousuke curses, then inhales sharply as Kisumi presses more into him, spreading his fingers, delving deeper but moving slower. “Oh, _shit_ ,” he heaves, “ _Jesus_ , Kis, _don’t_ stop.”

“Wasn’t planning on it,” Kisumi laughs, and resumes sucking him off, taking time to lap and tease around the head until Sousuke’s breathing stops short and quick.

Kisumi seems to catch on when he’s close, speeding up or slowing down to keep him at the edge until Sousuke knows he’s whining for him, specifically for his cock and exactly where he needs it to be as few things in this world make him feel so totally _right_ and high as a kite without a needle, and _oh;_ how he desperately needs that now when _nothing_ feels fine but Kisumi lately.

The stretch is so good, so unique. A full-body sigh leaves him as Kisumi pushes in with one slowly controlled thrust. Slick but tight and all of what Kisumi wants if the haze and lust in his eyes could tell stories.

Kisumi devours him, the need for waiting until Sousuke says he’s ready long since gone because he just knows when to move. He bites and sucks and _delves_ at Sousuke’s mouth and Sousuke hopes he fucking bleeds from it. Kisumi _rolls_ into him; hips rocking in a circle that Sousuke tightens around and chases after, and nothing’s left untouched.

He’s so drunk on it he doesn’t bother seeing if it’s him or Kisumi slicking a hand down his cock, just knows it feels how it should. Kisumi speaks to his lips all the ways he thinks Sousuke’s fucking filthy and beautiful on the same exhales, and utters his wants and needs on his inhales. Sousuke tells him he’d never sleep again if it meant he could have this feeling with him always, because he knows Kisumi isn’t hearing words when he comes, and Sousuke can pretend he never said it after he does too.

It’s half after seven according to the clock on the wall and Sousuke sits up on his couch, clothed in sweatpants.

“Kisumi?” he calls, and the way it freely bounces around the apartment tells Sousuke he isn’t there. He looks down at himself, shifts about and feels the skin on his torso for traces of sweat. He’s clean and dry, and maybe they fucked yesterday and it ran together. Maybe he fell asleep after he cleaned up and didn’t wake up until now. But he doesn’t feel very rested.

He snaps his head to the front door as three knocks disrupt the silence. Persistent fucker, he thinks, swinging his legs over the side of the sofa and standing. His knees ache, they feel perilously brittle to put weight on.

Sousuke cracks the door still on its chain, and sees red.

“Sousuke,” Rin greets, grinning uneasily, maybe sadly.

His stomach churns and his hands start to shake as rage bubbles up in him and spills over at the sight of _Rin-_ this fucking asshole. It hits him so fast he’s dizzy, and he needs to widen his stance to stay upright.

“Hey uh, open up? For me?”

“Fuck off,” Sousuke growls. “Don’t come back here.”

“Sou-”

“Don’t _ever_ come back here.”

Rin slaps his hands on the door when Sousuke tries to close it. “ _Please_ , Sou, I just want to talk, okay?”

“Get _out_ of my _life_!” he roars.

He slams it away from Rin’s hands, locks it, walks away from it. Rin shouts on the other side, and says he won’t leave. But Sousuke knows he’ll have to eventually. _Fuck_ him. His palms have four angry deep and purple crescents where he’s nearly split the skin with his nails.

“Why?” Kisumi asks when Sousuke recounts the encounter back to him at the kitchen table. Maybe the next day, maybe the same night. He knows Kisumi greeted him with _I missed you_ , whispered thick and nearly choked with emotion and that’s the only memory since Rin he’s latched onto. He thinks to ask Kisumi if he passed Rin on the way in, but decides he’d rather not know.

“Why what?”

“Why are you angry with him?”

“Because he doesn’t know when to shut the fuck up,” Sousuke grumbles irritably.

“Seems extreme, maybe,” Kisumi suggests.

“Yeah well, it isn’t.”

Kisumi fidgets with the ends of his hair, turned away in profile from Sousuke and staring somewhere out into the living room. “Maybe he was here to apologize.”

“And _maybe_ I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kisumi pauses his idle movements and frowns. “Sure, we don’t have to.”

Sousuke shakes his head dismissively, and it makes his world spin. He pinches the inside corner of his eyes as he screws them tightly shut, cool and clammy fingertips granting him a soft jolt of alertness. When he opens his eyes again Kisumi’s facing him. He looks ready to cry, eyes glassy and bottom lip tucked between his teeth.

“ _What_?”

“I’m really worried, Sou,” he says.

“I am _fine_. I take the pills _just_ like you asked. I’ve done everything with you as I usually do.”

Kisumi’s mouth twitches to a quick smile that isn’t even _remotely_ attempting to appear genuine. He stands from his chair and slinks to Sousuke, lowering himself onto his lap so they sit chest to chest. “You’re right. And I love spending all of this time with you.”

Sousuke backs off his edge and steadies Kisumi’s hips with his hands. Kisumi dips his head to kiss him slow and lazy, tilting his head with gentle presses of his fingertips and stringing him along to his whims. Sousuke melts for him, lets him push and pull what he wants until Sousuke keens quietly for him and has pulled him closer by the small of his back until they’re flush.

Kisumi pulls his head back just enough to speak, words with pinnacles teasing Sousuke’s lips. “But I want you to be happy.”

“I am.”

“Healthy.”

“Working on it.”

“Take me to the roof,” he whispers, rolling Sousuke’s lip between his teeth for the parting syllable.

“Okay.”

Kisumi smiles wide and gets to his feet, extending his hand. “Lead the way, set your pace.”

Sousuke takes it, and guides them to their shoes. Their landing is empty, no sign of Rin from not that long prior or days prior for all Sousuke knows. There are three flights of stairs to get to the top. Kisumi lets him rest without complaint after each level, and at the top in front of the roof access door he leans against the wall on his back to catch his breath.

Four monotone beeps puncture his wheezing, then the release of the bolt echoes back down the stairwell and a rush of warm summer air curls in. “Only I knew the code,” Sousuke observes breathlessly. “So you couldn’t just go and live up here.”

Kisumi holds a finger to his lips and raises his eyebrows playfully, and reaches to take Sousuke by the wrist and guide him out into the night until they come to stop and lean against the railing overlooking the city. They’re clear above the cityline, and the sight of the stars below is a much better one than the stars above blocked out by light pollution. Planes float on overhead, red blinking supernovas in the distance, the skyscrapers twinkle with homes entered and offices left, and the shooting stars of cars flowing along the streets make up a dazzling river of potential.

Because each one is a potential wish, Kisumi said once. Sousuke always thinks that now, even if he rolled his eyes then.

“I wish on every car for you,” Kisumi says after a while. “I think it’s going to come true.”

“I’m already here,” he snorts.

Kisumi leans his head on Sousuke’s shoulder. “I know. And I always want you to be.”

Sousuke’s face burns, and it’s definitely not the warm breeze. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Everyone wants you around. Everyone loves you, Sousuke.”

“Is this about Rin?” he sighs.

“It’s about you,” Kisumi cracks. Sousuke barely hears him over the city ruckus, and he belatedly registers Kisumi’s tremble against him. “And _I_ love you so much, you know that right?”

He swallows the lump in his throat and tightens his grip on the railing. “I do.”

“And you love me?”

“Why would you have to ask me that?” Sousuke mutters.

“It’s nice to hear,” Kisumi strains. Sousuke looks down to Kisumi’s hands, just as white-knuckled over the metal as his are, and shaking like a leaf with the rest of him.

“... I love you. Of course I do.”

A warm dampness spreads at his shoulder where Kisumi turns his face into the thin cloth of his shirt. “That makes me so happy,” he half-sobs, nuzzling closer.

Sousuke clears his throat and finds a spot on the street to focus on to keep himself from cracking. Looks like some electronic store front. “Something on your mind?”

Kisumi nods against him, and lets go of the railing to stand in front of Sousuke and wrap his arms around his neck while Sousuke keeps his focus over the railing and on the distant store front. “Tomorrow,” he says delicately to Sousuke’s ear, “Haru wants to come over.”

“Okay,” Sousuke acknowledges.

“And I won’t be there, so you have to let him in, okay?” he continues unevenly.

“Okay.”

“And- Makoto and Gou have been calling you, don’t worry about them.”

“I’m not.”

“And Rin just needs time.”

“Sure.”

“ _Let him in_ , Sou.”

“I will.”

Kisumi squeezes him until Sousuke feels forced to squeeze him back at his waist. He holds his breath while Kisumi sobs over his shoulder, and eventually Sousuke thinks to rub his back and shush him gently. He’s too exhausted to cry with him though he’d like to fucking _wail_ until he collapsed if he could, even if he doesn’t know why Kisumi’s so upset.

“For me,” Kisumi hitches.

 _Always,_ Sousuke thinks he says, but maybe he doesn’t.

* * *

 

Sousuke hasn’t been sleeping well. It doesn’t happen to everyone quite like _this_.

There’s a gnawing hole in his stomach as he paces restlessly around his apartment. His limbs feel hollow, this sick feeling pooling at the ends of him. When he catches his reflection as he passes the bathroom for the umpteenth time he startles himself. He’s pale in that sickly way, not in that soft way that Kisumi has, and his features are sunken and weathered. He ties off his sweatpants when he notices they’re slouching too, and when he tries to evaluate the rest of himself, he doesn’t see anything. There’s a body, he can feel it, but it registers as a blind spot. Something too vague.

He moves the one mug in the sink to the cupboard- the one he’s been using to fill with water for his pill. He can’t take them anymore. They’re not helping, clearly. Kisumi will just have to understand.

Three raps at his door. He steels himself at his kitchen counter, tries not to dry heave into the sink when the knocking unsettles his sick feeling further. Let him in. Let him in.

He cracks the door without unchaining it, Haru stands passively and at a comfortable distance. “Can I come in?”

Sousuke nods once, closes the door to get the chain, and opens it as he walks away to sit at his kitchen table. Haru steps in, takes his shoes off, and closes the door behind him.

“Can I get you anything?”

Haru shakes his head. He doesn’t take a seat right away. “Would you mind if we talked?”

“A little,” he confesses.

“But will you _let_ me?”

“Yeah,” Sousuke swallows. Kisumi would like him to talk since he can’t be there.

“Okay.” Haru pauses and looks around. “When’s the last time you slept, Sousuke?”

“I uh, before you got here.” It’s not a lie depending on that statute of limitations on the timeframe Haru’s implying, he figures.

Haru disappears into his bedroom for a few moments, and returns to sit with him at the table. “Your bed is made and cold to the touch.”

“Couch. I’ve slept. I took pills.” He points to the bottle on the counter.

Haru looks closely at the label, leaning forward. “These are _caffeine_ pills,” he states with alarm. “Do you know that? When did you buy these? Are you staying awake on purpose?”

“I’ve _slept,_ Haru,” Sousuke growls in frustration, glowering at his friend until he frowns and sighs.

“...Sure,” Haru concedes, speaking softly. “Ate?”

Sousuke freezes. He can’t dredge up anything in his memories since the ice. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “I don’t remember. I got Kisumi ice on the pier and had some of that.”

Haru fidgets in his seat. “When was that?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t been able to keep anything straight. Three, maybe four days ago? Two. I don’t _know_.”

“Okay, it’s fine,” Haru says quietly. “Kisumi wanted ice?”

“Yeah. We went to the beach. He cleaned up all his shit,” Sousuke laughs. “He _never_ picks up after himself so I thought it would be nice to do for him.”

Haru licks his lips nervously and stares down at the table for a long time before looking back to him. “Where is Kisumi right now, Sousuke?”

“Work, he usually is. He said you’d stop by… earlier.” Last night? The night before?

“Sousuke…” Haru clamps his mouth shut, and sets his phone on the table. “Sousuke _you_ asked me to come over.”

“I doubt it. I don’t even know where my phone is.”

Haru turns the screen on and taps a few times before sliding it to him. “Yes, you did. About an hour ago.”

_please comv ove_

“I didn’t send that,” Sousuke protests. “Kisumi told me you were coming and to let you in because he wouldn’t be here.”

“Right, he’s not here.”

“At work.”

Haru takes his phone back and sits straight in his chair. He darts his eyes to the door, and turns them back on Sousuke warily. “Sousuke, can I ask you something I need you to be really honest about answering?”

“Okay.”

“It’s nearly midnight. So tell me _honestly_ if you remember: _where_ _is Kisumi_?”

Did he stay late? Has he ever stayed that late? “I don’t know,” Sousuke confesses with some difficulty. His heart is slamming in his chest, rattling all of his bones until his body starts to ache again.

“Do you remember where we were last week?”

Sousuke slowly shakes his head in denial. “I can’t remember anything.”

Haru takes a deep breath and exhales it shakily. “I’m going to text Makoto back,” he declares. “Give me a moment.”

Sousuke barely nods. It feels like there’s a predator in the wing, watching him. Waiting. He can’t focus on Haru at all, or anything. If Kisumi were here, he’d know all the answers to these questions. But Sousuke’s being hung out to dry and he can barely breathe. Haru claps his phone down on the table, grabbing Sousuke back to attention.

Haru reaches across the space, awkwardly covering one of Sousuke’s hands with his own. Discomfort with the gesture pulls at the corners of his mouth, and Sousuke bites back the urge to tell him to fucking quit it if he hates it so much.

“Last week we were at Kisumi’s _funeral_ , Sousuke.”

He doesn’t feel anything to hear it, and stays ramrod still. Haru’s hand shakes just like Kisumi’s did on the railing. Kisumi’s _very real hand_. “I was _just_ with him.”

“He was sick, remember? For a long time? You helped with the services too.”

“This is pretty fucked up, Haru. I already cut Rin out for this shit,” Sousuke warns.

“Okay,” Haru mumbles, pulling his hand back. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Um, so you’re not looking too good. We’re going to take an ambulance to the hospital, okay? They can help you sleep. That’s all. Nothing else, just to sleep.”

 _Sleep_. Rest. He thinks about his reflection, and all of these time warps. Maybe it’s not a bad idea. No more pills. “If I go... will you tell him so he knows?”

“Yeah,” Haru whispers. “I’ll tell him.”

Sousuke looks down, a stray clear thought floating to the surface of his mess of a mind. “If I wake up… and what you said is _true…_ and he’s… _gone,_ ” Sousuke breathes. “Then-”

“You can hate me forever,” Haru fills in. “All of us. You can scream at us as much as you want. But we won’t let you do this to yourself.”

He doesn’t see any sort of insincerity in Haru’s expression, only desperation and pleading deeper than he can register for himself. Let him in, Kisumi said.

“Okay. For him. I’ll go.”

**Author's Note:**

> ... i re-watched scrubs recently! :'D that episode always sticks with me and i've always wanted to write a solid deathfic, so. 
> 
>  
> 
> [tumblr](http://iskabee.tumblr.com)


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